Boggarts
by Aeli Kindara
Summary: ."When someone’s greatest fear is his own parents, you know something’s wrong." Sirius tells of how he grew to hate his family, and how he escaped the world of the Blacks.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world of Harry Potter. I also have no money. Please don't sue.

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My childhood was not, shall we say, a happy one.

The first eleven years were miserable. Just miserable. Surrounded by proper behavior and disapproving glares and angry slaps and malicious cousins. Miserable.

Then came Hogwarts, and Gryffindor. That was the first time I experienced true happiness, at Hogwarts. I wanted to leave Grimmauld Place behind, forget about it for most of the year. I hoped that my new companions wouldn't even need to know my family was any less than wonderful.

That didn't work very well. People definitely noticed the Howler from my mother on the first morning. And then there were the angry whispered words of my cousins when they passed me in the halls, and the delight with which they and their friends sought me out with wands at ready, and the frequency of my visits to the hospital wing. Still, Hogwarts was happiness, and it was far better than Grimmauld Place.

That summer, though, things just got worse. Life at home, bad enough already, took a definite downward turn. Through the next four years, everything I did at home was gauged by distance: distance between people, distance to a door, distance from a hand to a wand. Every word, every action was carefully weighed against potential consequences.

Hogwarts, at least, could be my refuge, and there I could retain some facade of normality. My friends had caught on long ago that my life at home wasn't exactly pleasant, but they still didn't really know how bad it was. That is, until that Defense class in third year where my boggart took the form of my parents.

When someone's greatest fear is his own parents, you know something's wrong.

My friends tried to talk to me, but I joked around and refused to discuss anything seriously. I brushed the whole thing off, and they learned to follow my example, and life went on, the same as always.

Until sixth year, that is. Sixth year was when Voldemort started coming out into the open. Over the past few years, he'd been behind quite a few mysterious attacks, but no one knew that yet. He presented himself as a revolutionary who wanted to purify Britain — and he was willing to wage war. Many old families backed him, including mine.

That, I think, was when I started to really hate them. And I mean hate. Hate, hate, hate. And that summer, I wasn't afraid anymore. If you're into being polite, you can say I acted rashly. If not, then go right ahead and declare me insane.

I swear, I developed masochistic tendencies that summer. Every opportunity for a biting remark or an angry tirade was taken, heedless of consequences. I just didn't care anymore. I hated them. They could do what they wanted to me; I would simply laugh in their faces. I was crazy, did crazy things, like that one time when Mother was yelling about the obligations of one of my blood, and I pulled out a knife and slashed myself all down the arm. Crazy, all right, but I think I'd do it again if I was back in that house, back with them. I really can't live there anymore, not without going mad. I actually think my only moment of sanity in the three weeks I spent there was my decision to leave.

I'd taken to holing up in my room and answering to no one, but that night my mother quite literally dragged me down the stairs, telling me that we were having a party in honor of my brother and my cousin, and I was required to be in attendance, or else. I opted for 'or else,' but it turned out to be being physically dragged to the party, so I didn't have much of a choice there — particularly without the use of a wand.

Upon my much-protested arrival downstairs, I found Regulus and Bellatrix basking in the attention of a number of adults from other old families, as well as other branches of our own. Seeing me, Bella sauntered over, my brother bobbing behind her like a faithful dog.

"Well, well, Sirius," she purred, sounding positively dangerous. "The —" here she paused delicately "— _black sheep_ of the Blacks." A malicious smile grew on her face. "Finally decided to join us, dear cousin?"

"Bellatrix," I returned coldly.

"Tut, tut, cousin, where are your manners? Surely you wish to congratulate your dear brother and myself?"

"I fail to see a reason to do so."

"Oh, but didn't you know, Sirius?" Her eyes were wide and innocent, but her mouth was still spread in a devious smile. "Regulus and I have just been initiated into the ranks of the Dark Lord's forces."

I stared at her. I knew my family supported this supposed 'Dark Lord,' but had no idea any of them would go so far as to join his army.

"Well, Sirius?" hissed my mother from my right side. "Aren't you going to congratulate Bellatrix and Regulus?"

There was a pause, and I could feel every eye in the room on me. Bella arched an eyebrow.

I spat in her face.

The world sprang into motion again; my mother flew forward with a shriek of rage as a shocked cry rose from the spectators. And then, suddenly, it was still again.

My mother stood frozen, poised to strike, but with Bella's hand staying her own. My cousin was still smiling, and I felt the urge to punch her in the face.

"Allow me," she purred, and my mother subsided as Bellatrix withdrew her wand.

That, I believe, was the moment I lost the last miniscule shred of devotion to my family. The moment my own cousin turned her wand on me and spoke the word, _"Crucio."_

Late that night, when everyone had finally gone, I lay awake in bed, still aching from Bella's Cruciatus, and working out my escape in my head. I'd had enough, I decided, and I was going to leave. James's family would take me in; I'd stayed with them occasionally over the years. Silently, I rose and began packing my trunk, making sure I had my wand accessible, just in case. There were quite a few books scattered across my floor — I preferred their company to my family's. Fortunately, though, not much of my stuff had migrated to a different part of the house. Nearly everything was right there, and I had it all stuffed in my trunk in moments.

I swung the door open slowly, wand in hand, wincing as the hinges squeaked. Then I stared back at my trunk, unsure of what to do.

"What are you doing, Sirius?"

I wheeled to see Regulus on the landing, holding up a small lantern, which cast a flickering light on his startled face.

"Go back to bed, Regulus," I snarled.

"No, I won't!" Regulus exclaimed, voice growing higher. "You're running away, aren't you, Sirius?"

"And if I am?"

"I'll go tell mother!"

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would too!" He rushed for the stairs.

There was nothing else to do. _"Petrificus totalus!"_ I cried, and Regulus keeled over backward, stiff as a board.

Silence returned, and I listened carefully for signs of movement from upstairs. There were none, so I turned back to my trunk. With a shrug, I tapped it with my wand to make it weigh next to nothing, and picked it up easily. Moments later, I was unlocking the front door, when I sensed someone on the stairs behind me — my father, with his damned silent movement. Just in time, I threw myself flat, and the Stunning Spell rebounded off the door. My father had to throw himself sideways to dodge it. I leaped up.

"_Impedimenta!"_

My father froze mid-spell. I knew my curse would only slow him for a moment, though, so I threw open the door, and charged out, pulling my trunk behind me. Reaching the street, I cast a frightened glance backward, and thrust my right hand into the air. A thundering filled the air, and I leaped backward as a giant purple bus crashed down in front of me.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Scott Shunpike, and I —"

The conductor was cut off abruptly as I lunged past him into the bus.

"Hey, there, you need to pay to —"

"I'll pay, I'll pay, just get me out of here first!"

"Well, no need to be rude, young man. Ern —"

Even as Scott Shunpike slammed the door of the Knight Bus, there was an enormous bang, and we were on a completely different street. I heaved a sigh of relief.

"So, where are you off to?"

I gave him James's address without even thinking, mind still on my family and what they would do.

"That'll be eleven Sickles then, but for thirteen —"

I shoved some silver distractedly into his hand, grabbed my trunk, and headed for the back of the bus. Sitting down on a vacant bed, I ran a hand through my hair. It had been a harrowing night, but I was now speeding away from Grimmauld Place once and for all.

I allowed a smile to spread across my face.

---

One of the first things I did at the Potters' was to go through all my stuff and remove the Black crest from it. It was very satisfying to watch my family's mark disappear from my life. James helped me, but he wouldn't let me keep brooding over it. We were the Marauders, after all, and it would certainly destroy our reputation if a house with two of us in it had any shortage of mayhem.

And so the next few weeks were a wild ride of pranks, Quidditch games, food fights, and general misdemeanor. James was continually amazed at what I could get up to without being scolded by his mother. I put it down to my natural charm — and, of course, my constant willingness to help her around the house.

"Morning, boys. Stay out of the parlor this morning, all right? I found a boggart in there last night that I want to deal with."

I swept off an imaginary hat, bowing to her. "Allow me, Mrs. P. Sirius Black, boggart exterminator extraordinaire, at your service."

Mrs. Potter laughed. "If you insist."

I was actually a little eager to face the boggart, although considerably apprehensive. I had no idea if it would take the form of my parents again, or something entirely different. James, sensing this, offerred to help me get rid of it, but I refused firmly. It was something I wanted to do alone.

And so, an hour later, the parlor was otherwise empty as I pulled open the closet door, jumping back warily as the boggart emerged. There, in midair, hovered an image of the Black family crest, a sickening sym,bol of my inescapable ancestry. I took a step backward, unpleasant memories hitting me full force. I forced them away with a shake of my head.

"_Riddikulus!"_

The image burst into insubstantial whisps, gone in the blink of an eye. I, however, remained there for quite some time, staring unseeingly at the closet door, contemplating this change. Two boggarts, two fears, so similar, and yet so different.

To many, the distinction between one's family and the symbol of one's family may seem small and inconsequential.

But for me, it makes all the difference.

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**A/N:** You have my English teacher to thank for this one. It was sitting half-finished on my computer, and she assigned us open-ended creative writing this weekend. I couldn't think of anything, so I finished this. The ending feels a bit rushed to me. And if anyone's wondering, the first part takes place before Sirius's seventeenth birthday, which is why he's hesitant to use magic. The second part is soon after his seventeenth birthday. The idea for this story can be credited to Miss Puppylove's "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" (I think). It was originally going to be a drabble, but whatever. Anyway, enough rambling — please, please, please review. I'm a pathetic little puppy who thrives on reviews, and I admit it. Also, I answer all my reviews on my LiveJournal — click "homepage" on my profile. (And yes, I will get the ones I haven't done yet up! I promise!) 


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